


Steady As She Goes

by mutter11



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Girl Band, F/F, Mild Language, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mutter11/pseuds/mutter11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven has the bright idea to start a band. Clarke agrees, but has no idea what she's really getting herself into. Who knew not being able to play and sing at the same time was a good way to meet someone?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: The Library Steps Are a Good Place to Make Bad Ideas

**Author's Note:**

> Based on [this](http://dealanexmachina.tumblr.com/post/113243719957/the-100-au-octavia-raven-clarke-lexa-and-anya) fanart by [systemflaw](http://systemflaw.tumblr.com) with tags by [socallmedaisy](http://socallmedaisy.tumblr.com).

“We should start a band.”

Clarke set down her pencil from where she had been doodling in her notebook to turn and stare at Raven. She was up on the wide concrete railings flanking the steps to the library, reclining where it started to slope upward again after a landing, her feet stretched out in front of her and her hands folded behind her head. Clarke was perched on the step below her, sketching the view of the quad in the fading light.

When Raven didn’t laugh and lean down to punch Clarke’s shoulder like she usually did when she was joking, Clarke turned more fully to look up at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m serious.” Raven swung her feet off the railing and spread them, resting her elbows on her knees and staring thoughtfully at Clarke. “I know you can play the guitar and sing. And I’ve been playing the keyboard since I was, like, six. We’d make an awesome band.”

Clarke was opening her mouth to tell Raven to stop kidding when a girl suddenly plopped down beside her, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. “What’s this about a band?”

“Oh, hey Octavia,” Clarke greeted her. Octavia was only a freshman, but she and Clarke had become good friends after a shared intro to psychology class the past semester. They had been paired up for a project, and found that they got along well together and started to hang out outside of class. “Raven was telling me her _ridiculous_ idea of starting a band together.”

“Aw, c’mon, it’s not ridiculous,” Raven pouted down at her. “Tell her ‘Tavia.”

“Totally not ridiculous,” Octavia said, leaning back on her elbows on the step behind her. After a slight pause, she continued, “In fact, count me in. I’m pretty good on the drum set.”

Raven sat back, looking impressed. “Nice. I didn’t know you could play.”

Octavia smirked a little. “Yep. Sometimes I jam a little with one of Lincoln’s friends, Anya. She plays bass.”

“Sweeet. Hey, maybe you could ask her to join.”

“Yeah, awesome. I’m pretty sure she’s a free-floater right now, but I bet she’d love a real band to play with.”

“Wait, wait wait wait,” Clarke interrupted, her brows furrowed. “You guys realize there is no ‘real band,’ right? I haven’t even agreed to do this.”

“But you’re going to, right?” Raven asked. When Clarke just scowled at her, she wheedled, “Clarke, pleease? I swear, it’ll be awesome. We’ve even got a possible bassist!”

Octavia joined in, grasping Clarke’s shoulder. “Yeah, Clarke, c’mon. It’ll be a great way for us all to hang out together. You’ve been saying we need to do that more, right?”

Clarke sighed. Octavia was right, she had said that they needed to find a way to spend more time together. And it might be nice to play with other people, instead of by herself in her room…

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

Raven and Octavia let out matching cheers, and Raven leapt down off the railing to sweep her up into a hug. Letting go, she grabbed Clarke’s hand and started pumping it enthusiastically. “Gee whiz, you won’t regret this, I promise!” she said in a hokey Midwestern accent, making Clarke roll her eyes.

She wondered whether she didn’t already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is pretty short. I just wanted to introduce the whole thing. The rest of the chapters will be longer, I promise.


	2. Chapter 1: Anya's Place Is Kind Of a Dump

Clarke looked at the scrap of paper in her hands one more time before knocking. She hoped to god she was in the right spot; this wasn’t the kind of neighborhood she would usually come to on her own.

Just as she was starting to get uncomfortable and considering leaving, the door opened to reveal Octavia. “Hey, good, you made it! Raven got here a couple minutes ago. Come in, I’ll introduce you to Anya.”

Clarke hiked her acoustic guitar higher onto her shoulder before stepping into the entryway. “Um, is there anywhere I should put my shoes?”

Octavia waved her hand. “Just kick them off anywhere.”

Clarke toed out of her boots and placed them neatly against the wall, then followed Octavia back into the living room. The walls were the standard off-white of rental places, and the carpet was a dull, dirty-looking beige. A TV was nestled in the corner on a rickety stand. Two mismatched armchairs stood along one wall, with a beat up brown leather sofa along the other. The whole room smelled distinctly of cigarette smoke.

Raven was sitting in one of the armchairs, picking at her nails, while a woman Clarke didn’t recognize was sprawled out across the sofa. Her light brown hair was kept back with a black bandana tied around her forehead. She had on a gray band t-shirt, whose logo was so faded Clarke couldn’t make out what the band was supposed to be, and dark jeans with rips at the knees. Her eyeliner was smudged around her eyes, making it look more like warpaint than makeup. Clarke figured she had to be the resident of the house.

Clarke’s suspicions were confirmed when Octavia crossed straight over to her and said, “Clarke, this is Anya. Anya, Clarke.”

Clarke followed Octavia over to the couch, stretching out her hand towards Anya. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”

Anya just looked at Clarke’s hand until she dropped it. Although once she did Anya gave her a small nod and grunt.

Clarke twisted her hands together, extremely put off, and cast around for any topic of conversation.

“Um, you have a really nice place here,” she said.

Anya looked her straight in the eye and said, “No I don’t.”

Raven let out a loud snort from behind her, and Anya cast an appraising eye over her. Turning back to Clarke, she got straight to business. “So, you’re starting a band.”

“Yeah, I guess we are,” Clarke replied. She gestured to Octavia. “I assume Octavia already told you about how we need a bassist…”

“Octavia told me about your plans, yes.” Clarke couldn’t tell if Anya was interested or not; her face had remained neutral through the whole interaction.

“Okay… Well, I brought my guitar if we want to play a little together.” She slipped the strap over her shoulder and held it up a little, as if showing it to Anya.

Anya looked at it for a second, then asked, “Don’t you have an electric?”

“Yeah, I do,” Clarke said, instantly feeling defensive. She had had her acoustic for years and was strangely proud of it. “I just didn’t feel like trying to lug all of the equipment out here –”

“You could have used mine,” Anya cut her off. “I have a ton of shit out in the garage.”

“Okay.” Apparently they weren’t getting off on the right foot. Clarke tried again. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“If there is a next time…” Anya muttered under her breath. Suddenly, she got to her feet, ignoring everyone but Octavia. “I’m going to go get my shit set up. I’ll meet you out there.”

She gave Octavia a push as she walked by, and Octavia responded with a slap to her butt.

As soon as they heard the door slam, Octavia turned back to them with an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, guys. Anya can be a little… prickly until you get to know her.”

“You think?” Clarke scoffed.

Raven laughed. “Nah, I like her. She doesn’t take any shit. Clarke, you should have seen your face when she shot down your comment about this dump being ‘nice.’”

Clarke folded her arms in indignation. “I was just trying to be polite!” When the other two just laughed, she let herself crack a smile. “Although you’re right, it is kind of a shit hole.”

Raven and Octavia burst into loud guffaws.

“Damn straight,” Raven said appreciatively as Octavia pulled her phone out of her back pocket.

“Anya says she’s all set up,” she told them, slipping the phone back into her pocket and grabbing her drumsticks from the arm of the couch.

Raven hoisted herself out of the armchair, her brace squeaking. “Sweet. Let’s go rock it.”

Clark snorted. “You’re such a nerd.”

Raven swatted as her as she passed. “Shut up. At least I’m not pre-med.”

“You’re mechanical engineering!” Clarke called after her, following the other girls out the door. “How is that any better?”

Raven flipped her the bird and Octavia laughed loudly.

They stepped out of the back door into a small courtyard, lined with a weatherworn wooden fence. The ground was covered in course gravel, with tufts of browning grass poking through here or there. In the corner there was a separate garage that looked like it would barely hold one car. Octavia lead them over, holding open the side door while they stepped over the lip of the raised doorframe.

Inside the garage was sparse and dusty. There were a couple shelves on the walls, stacked with beat up cardboard boxes. A single window shed weak light onto the instruments set up in the middle of the concrete floor.

Octavia immediately crossed to the drum set against the opposite wall and sat at the stool, twirling her drumstick between her fingers.

“Is this your set?” Clarke asked her.

“Yep,” Octavia said with a proud smile. “I use the ones in the practice halls at the music building when I’m on campus, but this one’s all mine.”

Clarke took in the sparkly purple shells. “I guessed.”

As Octavia started to tap out a rhythm on the rim of the snare, Clarke turned to find Raven inspecting the keyboard propped up on an x-frame stand.

“Is this a Casio WK-7600?” Raven asked Anya.

“Yes,” Anya confirmed from her perch on her amp, her bass on the ground next to her.

“Cool,” Raven nodded. “I’ve got a Korg Krome 73 Workstation back at my dorm. Saved up for it all through high school. I’ll have to bring it down if we keep practicing here.”

“Let’s figure out if we _will_ be practicing here first,” Clarke warned. She turned to Anya, nodding to her. “Should we start?”

“I’d prefer that,” Anya said. She fiddled with the volume on her amp, cradling her bass on her lap and picking out a few notes before she was satisfied. She straightened back up, settling her bass down below her hips so she could easily strum while keeping her arm loose. “Do you know 'The Adventures of Rain Dance Maggie'?”

“Yeah!” Clarke said, pleased. "Rain Dance Maggie" was actually one of the first songs she had learned how to play; it had a lot of open chords for a Red Hot Chili Peppers song. Also, the bass guitar really carried the song. Clarke guessed that was why Anya suggested it – it was essentially her tryout song. “I don’t know all of the words, but I can hum most of it.”

“That’s fine.”

“It doesn’t really have a keyboard part, though,” Clarke said, looking at Raven.

Raven waved her off. “Don’t worry about me, princess. I can tap something out.”

“All right, then.” Clarke turned to Octavia. “Want to count us in?”

“Yeah, sure thing, let me just set up my cowbell.” She grabbed the bell from behind her, already attached to its clamp, and quickly clipped it to her bass drum. “Okay. Ready?”

All the girls nodded, and she tapped her cymbal lightly, counting out, “One, two, three, four.”

Anya came in smoothly, picking out the funky rhythm of the song. Clarke was impressed; as she strummed out the opening chords of the song, she watched Anya strum out clean, clear notes. She was good.

“Lipstick junkie, debunked the all in one…” Clarke started to sing, and a tiny smile crossed Anya’s lips. Clarke could tell she had been waiting to play this song with other people and was enjoying the way it sounded.

By the time they got to the chorus, Clarke was feeling pretty good, and was able to sing out all of the words. “Heyyy now, we’ve got to make it rain somehow…” She looked around, noticing everyone’s smiles, and felt an answering one grow on her face. She had to hand it to Raven, this was actually pretty fun.

It was incredibly difficult to shred in any capacity on an acoustic guitar, but Clarke was able to improvise something halfway decent for the solo. Anya gave her a nod as they continued through the rest of the song.

As the last note died off, Octavia let out a whoop and Raven clapped. “Yeah, that was sweet!” she cheered. “Anya you were great.”

“Thanks,” Anya said with a nod.

“Yeah, Anya, you’re really good,” Clarke agreed. “Is there anything else you want to play, just you?”

Anya shrugged, but Clarke could tell she had something in mind.

“Oh, go ahead and show off, we know you’re dying to,” Raven told her.

“Well… all right.” Anya bent over her amp again, fiddling with a few knobs, before launching into a song.

It started off fairly slow and scratchy, but quickly escalated until Anya’s fingers were flying across the strings. She glanced over at Octavia and suddenly both of them were jamming out, filling the garage with sound. Anya even started to headbang a little. All Clarke could do was watch in amazement until they were done.

“Wow,” Clarke said. “What song was that?”

“'Anesthesia (Pulling Teeth)' by Metallica. Well, Cliff Burton,” Anya said.

“Okay. Well that was…” Clarke was at a loss for words.

Raven just nodded in agreement. “So, are you in or what?”

There was a moment of dead silence as Anya considered. Then, slowly, she shrugged and said, “Sure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> e: I made some minor changes to Anya’s speech pattern. I realized I didn’t like how informal she sounded in some parts so I made some tweaks.


	3. Chapter 2: Milkshakes and PDA

They stay for another two hours, playing song after song, until the light from the small window begins to grow orange and fade. Clarke packs up her acoustic guitar, promising to bring her electric the next time they play. They set up a time to meet next weekend, and Clarke, Raven, and Octavia leave down the driveway and back onto the street.

“Wow, Octavia, when you said you were good on the drums you weren’t lying,” Raven said as they ambled down the block. “Where’d you learn to play like that?”

Octavia shrugged. “YouTube, mostly. I took lessons for a while, but my teacher was an asshole so I quit.”

Raven nodded and Clarke grimaced in empathy.

They continued to the end of block in comfortable silence, the only sounds the faint squeak from Raven’s brace and the thump of Clarke’s guitar bumping between her shoulder blades.

When they got to the intersection, Raven stopped and leaned over, massaging the top of her left thigh. “Hey, either of you drive here? My leg’s killing me.”

“Sorry, no, I took the bus.” Clarke told her.

“Me neither, Bells just dropped me off earlier today,” said Octavia. She frowned until an idea struck her. “Hey, I can call Lincoln to come pick us up if you want. We were gonna hang out tonight anyway.”

Raven immediately hobbled over to the curb and plopped down. “That’d be awesome.” She let her head flop backward, her bad leg stretched out with the other folded under it. “Standing for such a long time usually isn’t good for this sucker,” she said, patting her thigh above the brace.

Clarke settled down beside her as Octavia walked a couple feet away to call Lincoln. Raven rolled her eyes at Octavia’s sappy greeting of “Hey, babe.”

Clarke gave her a gentle push. “Stop it. I know you think they’re cute.”

“Sure, if by ‘cute’ you mean ‘sickening to even be around.’” Raven said, sticking out her tongue.

Clarke just shook her head with a smile. Pulling her guitar around to her front, she settled her it in her lap and started to softly play “Wake Me Up When September Ends.”

After a short conversation with Lincoln and an equally sappy goodbye, Octavia came back over and joined them on the curb. She tapped the body of Clarke’s guitar with her fingernail, interrupting the notes with a hollow knocking sound.

“You’re the kind of douche who would pick up the acoustic in the dorm lounge and just start playing, aren’t you?” she teased.

Clarke snorted. “Yeah totally.” She lowered her voice, making herself sound like a stoner dude. “Anyway, here’s ‘Wonderwall.’”

Both other girls laughed, prompting Clarke to start strumming the beginning of the song.

Octavia immediately pushed her while Raven swatted her fingers away from the frets.

“God, no, don’t actually play it!” Octavia exclaimed, causing Clarke to laugh loudly, her head thrown back. “You asshole.”

“Anyway,” said Raven, pushing Clarke’s face away with her hand, “how’s lover boy?” She leaned around Clarke to make kissy noises at Octavia.

Octavia stuck her tongue out at Raven while Clarke shook her hand from her face and pushed her back. “He’s on his way, he’ll be here in like five minutes.”

“Cool.”

All three lapsed back into silence, Clarke going back to playing “Wake Me Up.” Soon enough they heard the sound of an engine, and an old forest-green sedan pulled up in front of them.

“Lincoln!” Octavia bounced up immediately, going over to where the driver had already rolled down his window.

“Hey, babe,” he said, leaning out the widow a bit to meet her for a kiss.

Clarke slung her guitar over her back and climbed to her feet, holding out her hand to help Raven up. As soon as she was up, Raven called out “Shotgun!” and galloped around the front of the car.

“Hey no fair,” Octavia protested, straightening up with her hands on her hips. “It’s my boyfriend driving, I should get shotgun.”

Raven smirked. “Too late, I already called dibs.”

Octavia huffed in indignation, and both girls turned to Clarke.

Clarke threw her hands up in surrender. “Hey, don’t look a me.” She looked at Lincoln. “Lincoln? It is your car.”

He shrugged apologetically, but couldn’t hide the smile on his face. “Sorry, what the lady says, goes.”

Octavia leaned down to give him another peck. “Thanks, babe, you’re the best.”

Raven grumbled as she continued to the rear door and slumped into the seat, her arms crossed over her chest.

Clarke climbed in the other side and rolled hers eyes good-naturedly. “Shush. Look, now you can sit sideways and put your foot up in my lap.”

Raven did so, but not without a parting jab at Octavia. “Your boyfriend sucks balls.”

Without even turning around, Octavia replied, “Not since we’ve been together.”

Lincoln made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “ _Octavia._ ”

Clarke’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. Raven let out a loud guffaw.

“Damn!” she said gleefully. “All right, dude, just put this clunker in drive and let’s get going.”

Lincoln immediately followed her order, fumbling a bit with the gearshift in his haste. There were a few moments of awkward silence, then he cleared his throat.

 “So, do you want me to take you guys home, or do you want to come with Octavia and I to That Milkshake Place?”

“Which milkshake place?” Clarke asked.

“No, that’s the name,” Octavia explained. “That Milkshake Place. It’s on the outskirts of town.”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Clarke thought for a second. “Yeah, sure, why not? I have a few hours to kill.”

“Raven, that cool with you?” Octavia looked at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, who am I to pass up an opportunity for milkshakes?” She crossed her hands behind her head and grinned.

As they pulled up to the restaurant, Clarke saw that it was built like an old 50s diner, complete with chrome and garish colors. “That Milkshake Place” was spelled out in tall, loopy neon letters atop the roof.

Lincoln parked as close as he could in the crowded parking lot, and the group piled out of the car and started walking towards the building.

“Inside or out, babe?” Lincoln asked Octavia, his arm resting around her shoulder.

Octavia peered through the window into the diner, where the counter was lined with customers and every booth was full. “Outside,” she said. “Plus it’s so nice out, I want to enjoy it a little longer.”

They all walked over to the red and white picnic tables off to the side of the building and took a seat.

“This place serves the best milkshakes you’ll ever taste.” Octavia said, her voice drowning out the faint sound of the Beach Boys coming from the speakers on the roof. “Once you have one you’ll be addicted.”

“The menu’s over there,” Lincoln pointed. A large menu board was bolted to the side of the building, filled with different flavors.

Clarke thought there had to be at least fifty different options. A few she recognized as standard flavors, but most had crazy names that she could only guess the ingredients of. She decided she should stick with something she knew.

As she was puzzling over some of the odder names – Grounder Pounder? The Veil? – a waitress in a vintage dress uniform and matching little hat glided over on roller skates.

“Octavia, Lincoln, nice to see ya!” she greeted cheerily. “You havin’ your usual tonight?”

Octavia nodded happily while Lincoln said, “Yes, thank you.”

She scribbled something down on her pad and turned to Clarke and Raven. “And for you ladies?”

“I’ll have the Peanut Butter Chocolate shake, please,” Clarke said.

“Lame,” Raven ribbed her. To the waitress, she said, “I’ll take the Crash Landing.”

After writing their orders down, the waitress gave a mock salute with her pen. “Comin’ right up,” she said, and skated away.

“Do you even know what’s in the… whatever you ordered?” Clarke asked Raven.

Raven smirked. “Nope.”

Clarke shook her head and went back to studying the menu.

Raven turned to where Lincoln and Octavia were swapping chaste kisses. She cleared her throat loudly, getting them to pull away slowly. “They even have roller-skating waitresses? This place is sweet.”

“Isn’t it?” Lincoln smiled down at Octavia. “We love coming here.”

Raven snorted. “I can tell. You have a ‘usual.’”

Octavia shrugged. “It’s like I said, you get addicted. Plus they’re cheap, so it’s a good date place.”

Lincoln kissed her on the temple and Raven turned away with a gagging sound.

There was a moment of silence and then Lincoln spoke again. “So Octavia tells me you’re forming a band.”

Clarke tuned back into the conversation. “Really, Octavia? We just came up with the idea three days ago. We weren’t even sure Anya would join until today!”

“Oh, she said yes?” Lincoln asked, sounding surprised.

Octavia beamed. “Yep! She totally wowed these two.”

“It’s true,” Raven agreed. “She rocks.”

“That’s great,” Lincoln congratulated them, squeezing Octavia in a side hug. “Have you come up with a band name yet?”

“Oh!” Octavia said, “We didn’t even think about that.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” he asked.

“Go for it,” Raven encouraged at the same time Octavia said, “Of course, babe.”

“How about Trikru?”

“Trikru?” Clarke questioned.

“In Trigedasleng it means ‘tree people,’” he explained. “I thought it would be fitting since the only thing around here is forest.”

Clarke looked to where she could see trees creeping up behind the diner. “That’s true.”

Raven laughed. “I like it!”

Lincoln smiled, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Octavia beamed proudly at him. Then she pulled out her cell phone as she though of something. “Before we decide, though, we should ask Anya if she likes it.”

Clarke nodded. “Right, of course.”

“Good idea,” Lincoln agreed. “Most of the townies speak Trigedasleng, so she knows what it means.”

Octavia opened the video call app on her cell phone, holding it out so Anya would be able to see all four of them.

After a few rings, Anya picked up, her disgruntled face filling the screen.

“Hey Anya,” she greeted. Everyone else waved a little. Anya just scowled.

“What is it? Didn’t you all just spend the entire afternoon at my house?” she grumbled.

“Yeah, but we had something important to ask you,” Octavia told her. “We were talking about band names and we think we figured something out. You ready?”

Anya huffed. “What is it?”

“Trikru.”

There was a moment of silence. “‘Tree people’? Seriously? No way, that’s fucking lame.” Lincoln’s face fell. “If we use Trigedasleng, it has to be something more intimidating. I say Gonakru.”

“Warriors?” Lincoln translated questioningly.

“Oh my _god_ yes,” Raven said, leaning towards the phone.

“I have to admit, that’s pretty awesome,” Clarke agreed.

Anya looked to Octavia. “So?”

Octavia grimaced at Lincoln. “Sorry, babe, I’m gonna have to go with the others on this one.”

On the phone screen, Anya gave a curt nod. “Then it’s settled. I’m going to hang up.” The screen went blank.

Clarke reached over and touched Lincoln’s hand where it rested on the table. “Sorry, Lincoln. Your idea was good, too.”

“Yeah,” said Raven, “Anya’s was just more badass.”

Clarke smacked her arm with the back of her hand.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Lincoln said with a small smile on his face. “I agree with Raven. I’m glad you could come up with something you all like.”

Octavia smiled at him. “You’re too sweet, baby. That’s why I love you so much.”

“Ai hod yu in, too.”

Throwing her arms around his neck, Octavia drew Lincoln in for a deep kiss that started to last too long.

“Oh god, they’re doing it again,” Raven groaned.

Thankfully, before Raven could find anything to throw at them like she usually did, their waitress skated over holding a tray.

“Order up!” she said with a grin. She handed the frosty glasses to their owners as she listed off the orders. “Here’s a Peanut Butter Chocolate for you, a Crash Landing for you, and a double Smack Down for the…” she set the cup down gingerly in front of where Octavia and Lincoln were still making out, “lovely couple.”

Raven immediately took one of the offered straws, ripping off all but the end of the wrapper and blowing it at Octavia’s face. It hit her in the ear and she jumped away from Lincoln with a wet pop.

Clarke shook her head in exasperation as Octavia grabbed her own straw to retaliate. She turned back to the waitress to thank her. “Thanks…” she checked the girl’s nametag, “Angie.”

“No problem, sweetheart,” Angie replied with a flirty wink. Then she turned and glided back into the diner.

“Did you guys –?” Clarke turned back to the table, but Raven and Octavia were still bickering obliviously, and Lincoln was busy trying not to get hit in the eye with any spitballs.

As Clarke opened her own straw and took a sip of the rich, thick milkshake, she muttered to herself, “Still got it.”

* * *


	4. Chapter 3: Touch My Ass and I'll Break Your Face

Later that week Clarke and Raven managed to get their instruments down to Anya’s garage, with the help of Lincoln’s car, and Gonakru officially started to practice.

Although what they were practicing _for_ , no one was quite sure. Clarke could tell it was a thought that weighed on everyone’s mind, though, as the light and fun atmosphere that accompanied their earlier sessions began to dwindle.

Finally, after about a month of weekly practices, Anya broke the tense mood that had formed in the small garage.

“Look,” she said, apropos of nothing, startling Clarke where she was bent over her guitar, tuning it between songs. “What are we doing here?” Anya looked around at the other girls, exasperation written on her face. She continued on, the sarcasm of her next statement almost tangible. “Not that I don’t appreciate you three taking over my garage and hours of my time a few days a week. But if I don’t starting getting something out of this, I’m going to have to kick you out.”

“Get something out of it how?” Clarke asked, straightening fully, unsure exactly what Anya could mean by that.

Anya looked her straight in the eye. “Monetarily.”

Clarke started a little bit, not expecting that answer at all. Monetarily? The last thing she had thought of went Raven first suggested starting this band was making money off of it.

She darted a glance at Raven and Octavia, who looked as nonplussed as she felt. “I don’t even know how we would go about doing that,” she told Anya.

A small smirk crossed Anya’s lips. “There’s no need to worry about that. I already have something arranged.” At the sight of Clarke’s bewildered expression, her smile grew further. “My uncle. He owns a bar. He said he would be willing to pay us to play a short gig there.”

Before Clarke could even try to respond, Raven butted in. “Wait, a real gig? In an actual bar with actual money?”

Anya nodded. Raven let out a small whoop. “All right!”

“Wait, wait,” Clarke said, holding her hand out. “When exactly would this gig be?”

Anya shrugged nonchalantly. “A little less than a week from now.”

“Less than a week?” repeated Clarke indignantly. How were they meant to prepare for a real gig in that short a time?

As if she new what Clarke was thinking, Anya told her, “Relax. We’ve been practicing for almost a month now. I’m sure we can put something together before then.”

Clarke put her hand to her forehead, rubbing at a headache starting to form there. “How long have you had this arranged?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I only talked to my uncle last night.”

“Last –” Clarke shook her head in disbelief. “And you didn’t think to check with any of us to see if we’d even be interested?”

Anya’s face darkened. “I don’t need your permission to talk to my own uncle,” she said with a step towards Clarke.

Clarke echoed her movement. “But you _do_ need to let us know when you’re making decisions that’ll affect the _entire band_.”

Anya stepped forward again, getting right into Clarke’s face. Clarke’s hands curled into fists. “If you think you can just –”

“Woah, woah!” Raven jumped between them, pushing them apart by their shoulders. “Let’s not start a goddamn catfight.” She looked between the two of them, shaking her head. Then she took Clarke by the upper arm and pulled her a little ways away – not that the extra two feet would provide them with much privacy. “Clarke, you’ve gotta admit that playing a real gig would be amazing. And if Anya hadn’t already talked to her uncle, I doubt any of three of us would’ve thought to get off our asses and arrange something.”

Clarke grumbled to herself for a minute, then grudgingly agreed, “I guess that’s true…” She sighed, reluctantly accepting that they were doing this. Not willing to totally let it go, however, she looked back to Anya. “But next time, talk to us first.”

“Of course,” Anya replied with another smirk, willing to concede now that she had gotten her way.

There was a moment of tense silence, then Octavia piped up from where she was still sitting at her drum set. “Well, this got awkward. Who else is for calling it a day?”

Raven’s hand shot into the air. Clarke nodded.

“That’s probably best,” she said. “How about I go home and make a tentative set list, and we’ll get together in a day or two and go over it?”

“So you get to make the set list because you’re the lead or something?” Clarke could almost see the air quotes Anya put around “lead.”

Clarke put her hand on her hip. “Yes,” she said with an absolutely straight face. She quirked an eyebrow. “Plus, it’s just tentative. I’m not going to make decisions without the rest of the group.”

“Ok, yep, time for us to leave,” Octavia said hurriedly as Anya started to scowl. She scuttled out from behind her drum set and ushered Raven and Clarke out the door. “Bye, Anya.”

As soon as they were all outside, the door slammed behind them.

 

The first thing Clarke did when she got back to her dorm room was make a list of possible songs she could play for the gig. She went through all the songs she knew, picking out ones she was certain she could sing and play at the same time without much difficulty and writing them down on a scrap piece of notebook paper.

When she was finished, she looked over the list, then sank down in her chair with a groan. The list was pitifully short. Why couldn’t she get the hang of playing and singing at the same time? It was times like these that the singular focus Clarke’s mom was always telling her would make her a good surgeon really got in the way.

“Well, there’s not much for it,” she murmured to herself, shoving the paper in the bottom of her bag, as if that would take her mind off of how lackluster her guitar skills were. Out of sight, out of mind, and all that. She would text the other girls tomorrow to set up a practice time.

For tonight, she rushed through her bedtime routine, occasionally shooting the acoustic guitar in the corner of her room dirty glares. She flopped into bed and pulled the blankets over her head, her back to the offending object, trying to ignore the inadequacy she felt at not being good enough at it.

 

“Really? This is it?” Anya asked, holding the crumpled paper back out to Clarke. “This is your set list?”

Clarke gripped her guitar in front of her like a shield. “Yes. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not very good at singing and playing at the same time.”

“We’ve noticed,” Raven said bluntly.

Octavia smacked her in the side.

“Hey!” protested Raven. “She said it first!”

Octavia made to whack her again, but Clarke held up her hand to stop her. “No, she’s right. I mean, I thought she would’ve sugar-coated it just a bit –” She gave Raven a mock glare, who shrugged sheepishly back. “But she’s right. This is about everything I’m sure I can play without messing up.”

Anya looked at the set list again, then dropped in on top of her amp. “Well, it’s fucking lame. I’m not going to play this shitty set at my own uncle’s bar.”

Clarke took a deep breath, tamping down the anger Anya’s words caused. Now wasn’t the time for another nasty fight. “Ok then. Why don’t we go over it and you can make some suggestions? We can add some instrumentals, so my abysmal multitasking skills won’t get in the way.”

Anya looked down at the set list, then up at Clarke, then down at her bass. After a pregnant pause, she agreed, “All right.”

“Great,” Clarke deadpanned. “Let’s get started.”

They spent the next half an hour going over the set list, calling out and shooting down suggestions. Clarke wrote everything down, and soon the wrinkled paper was full of song names and scribbles. Finally, they came up with a list of seven songs they all agreed they could play, and arranged them into an order they felt made sense.

“I have to say, this doesn’t look half bad,” Octavia said, holding the list out in front of her and cocking her head appraisingly.

Anya grunted. “It’s not awful.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Raven said, rolling her eyes. “You guys want to practice it then?”

Everyone nodded, Anya a little less enthusiastically than Clarke and Octavia.

“We can run through it one time, but then I want you to leave,” she said. “I have a lot of work to do tonight.”

Clarke groaned as she thought about her own workload. “No complaints here. Apparently all my professors decided to have midterms early this year.”

Raven laughed and reached out with her good leg to kick Clarke’s feet. “I told you pre-med was gonna kick your ass.”

Clarke crossed her arms over her chest. “Weren’t you just telling me the other day that you have like five major assignments due soon?”

“Shut up, Griffin,” Raven replied, flopping down onto the floor with her hands behind her head.

“If you all are so busy, let’s get this show on the road,” said Octavia. She picked up her drumsticks and started tapping out a rhythm on Raven’s brace until she moved to stand.

“You’re such a little shit,” Raven told her as Octavia helped her to her feet.

Octavia gave her a shit-eating grin. “Yeah but you love it.”

Raven just pushed her towards her drum set. “Go hit something that won’t hit you back.”

Octavia waited until everyone had picked up their instruments, then raised her drumsticks over her head to count them in. “Ready? One, two, three, four!”

 

The night of the gig, the group loaded up the trailer Anya had mysteriously procured and hitched it to Lincoln’s car, loading it up with their equipment and hauling everything down to the bar. They pulled up in front of the building, marked with a glowing sign that read “Monument Bar,” and everyone sat in apprehensive silence for a minute.

It was Anya that broke the quiet. “Well, let’s go in. We’re not going to make any money just sitting in Lincoln’s car.”

She, Octavia, and Raven piled out of the car, and with a shaky breath Clarke followed them. She was more nervous than she’d like to admit, and she clenched her fists, willing them to stop shaking.

The four girls walked through the front door and into the small, smoky bar. It was the picture of the stereotypical biker bar; wood paneled, a long counter along one wall, a dartboard and several pool tables nestled in the front corner. In the opposite corner there was a small raised platform that Clarke assumed was the stage they would be performing on.

Anya lead them over to the bar, leaning over it to yell at a recessed door. “Uncle Laus!”

The door opened and a man of medium height with impressive muscles stepped out. His skin was dark like Anya’s, and his face was covered in scruffy stubble. His head, on the other hand, was shaved clean, numerous swirling tattoos taking the place of his hair. He wore a gray shirt with the bar’s logo, an obelisk over the bar’s name, and a white apron tied around his waist.

 “Anya, you’re here.” His words were gruff, but Clarke could see the twinkle in his eyes at the sight of his niece. “These are your friends?”

Anya shrugged one shoulder, then gave a small nod.

He nodded in return. “Your equipment?”

“Trailer out front.” Anya tilted her head in the direction of the front door.

“Bring it around the back,” Laus told her. “You can unload there.”

They went back out front to collect Lincoln, who brought his car down the narrow alley to the rear door of the bar. The girls lugged their amps, Raven’s keyboard, and the pieces of Octavia’s set through the door and along the dark hallway back into the bar. They emerged behind the stage, where there was a small pathway between it and the rear wall.

They quickly arranged their equipment, with Clarke in the front, Anya to her left, Raven a little behind and to the right, and Octavia in the back corner.

Laus stood to the side while they got set up, then told them the few things they needed to know for the night.

“Bathroom’s back there.” He pointed to the hallway they had come out of, where two doors are set into opposite walls just inside the entrance. “You go on at ten. Each get a beer after, on the house.” He nodded curtly at their thanks, then walked back behind the bar.

Anya followed after him, leaning against the bar to chat. They had about ten minutes until they went on, so the rest of them just sat there a little awkwardly. Octavia twirled her drumsticks between her fingers, and Raven fidgeted with her brace. Clarke took the opportunity to properly scope out the bar.

It wasn’t too crowded for that time of night, but there were still a fair amount of patrons. They were mostly gathered around the bar or the pool tables, almost all with dark, frothy beers in hand. For the most part they were older guys, with thick beards, worn leather jackets, and tattoos galore. Yep, definitely a biker bar.

One of the men who had been standing near the bar drifted over towards the stage, leaning up against the rear wall. He was on the younger side, and his beard was patchy, unevenly covering his acne-scarred cheeks. “Hey there, toots,” he said with a nod in Octavia’s direction.

Octavia looked up at him in distaste, then turned back to fiddling with her drumsticks.

“What’s your name?” he tried. This time, Octavia held him with a disdainful stare. The man just laughed. “All right, all women deserve their air of mystery. I just wanted to say, you have a cute little body there. I noticed while you were setting up. Especially your ass.”

Octavia stood, pointing a drumstick at his head, her eyes seething with rage. “Come near me and I’ll break this stick over your face.”

The man held up his hands, looking offended. “All right, damn. I was just trying to pay you a compliment.”

Octavia stared him down until he walked back over to the bar, quickly returning to nursing his drink.

At this point there were only a few minutes left before they started, so all the girls mounted the stage and started tuning up. This finally caught the full attention of the bar-goers, who turned to watch them.

Clarke adjusted her mic stand, leaning forward and testing the sound. “Check?” When everything seemed to be working properly, she nodded to herself and cleared her throat. “Hi, everyone, how are you guys tonight?” The only answer she got was deafening silence, so she awkwardly cleared her throat again and plowed on. “Okay, then. Well, we’re Gonakru, and we’re gonna be playing for you tonight. Uh, we’re gonna start with a little something from Elton John, ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road.’ Hope you enjoy.”

She turned around to tune her guitar one last time. Raven put her hand over her microphone and leaned over to whisper to her. “Clarke, that was so awkward.”

Clarke grimaced. “I know. Just play.”

She turned back around, signaling to Octavia with a nod over her shoulder. Octavia clicked her drumsticks together to count them in, and suddenly they were playing their first real gig.

They had decided on “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” to open because there wasn’t much guitar for Clarke to get messed up on, and it showcased Raven’s playing. Clarke thought that was only right, as she was the one who had really started this band in the first place.

They got through the song without incident, earning them a polite smattering of applause, and Clarke started to feel like maybe they could actually do this. As they were preparing for the next song, Clarke saw the man who had creeped on Octavia get up and moved away from the bar. She was glad; he had been staring through the entire song.

She was less pleased when he walked towards the stage, but thankfully he just made his way down the pathway towards the bathroom – although not without a leer towards Octavia as he passed.

Octavia returned it with a glare strong enough to kill, and Clarke waited until he was out of sight before turning back to her microphone.

“Thank you,” she said in delayed gratification for the light applause. “Up next we’ll be playing ‘The Weight’ by The Band,” she announced.

It didn’t take long for the crowd to turn back to their drinks and conversations, not that Clarke blamed them much. These weren’t the most upbeat songs in the world. But she was doing what she could.

They had just hit the three-part harmony between her, Raven, and Anya – which sounded great, if she said so herself – when a discordant cymbal crash came from behind her. Quickly turning to see what had happened, Clarke caught a glimpse of Octavia sitting frozen in her stool, the creeper guy’s hand sitting flush on her ass, before the drummer twisted away from him.

So fast Clarke could barely believe it, Octavia swung her drumstick down and around towards his face. It connected with a wet _thwack_ and a sharp _crack_ , splintering in two on contact with the bridge of his nose.

The man lurched back, a howl of pain escaping his lips as he clutched his nose in his hands, blood pouring from it into his scrawny beard.

Octavia stepped up to the edge of the stage to tower over him, looking as imposing as any wrathful goddess. “I fucking told you what would happen if you touched me.”

At that moment, Laus came striding up to where the man was slumped against the wall.

“Laus! What the fuck, man?! I think she broke my nose!” the creep wailed.

Laus heaved him up from the wall, then pointed him in the direction of the door. “You need to leave now.”

“Wait, what?” cried the man. “Aren’t you gonna do something? That bitch just attacked me!”

Octavia lurched forward, only stopping when Raven caught her around her middle. “This _bitch_ was just defending herself from getting _assaulted_!”

Laus gave Octavia a level look, then said to the man, “I’ll call an ambulance. But you have to wait for it outside.”

“Fuck you, man. I’m the injured party here,” he groused, but continued towards the door.

As soon as he made it out the front, Laus turned and started shepherding the girls towards the back. They all followed him silently down the dim hallway, Raven keeping her hand on Octavia’s shoulder until they emerged in the alleyway.

“You need to keep better control of your customers,” Clarke said to Laus as soon as she made it out of the door.

Laus shrugged one shoulder with a small sigh. “Not sure there’s any way to control them, but he won’t be coming back.” He paused for a moment. “Although maybe you guys shouldn’t anytime soon either.”

“What?!” Clarke exclaimed. “But we’ve done nothing wrong!”

He shrugged apologetically, then went back into the bar.

The girls stared after him for a moment, before Anya said sardonically, “Well that went tits up.”

Octavia gripped the broken end of the drumstick she was still holding. “You’d better be glad that perv didn’t go for my tits. If he did, the other half of this stick would be in his heart.”

Anya sized her up appreciatively, hand on her hip. “I don’t doubt it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uncle Laus and his bar are named after the Washington Monument. Laus’s name comes from an inscription on the cap of the monument, which reads “Laus Deo” (Latin for “Praise be to God”).


	5. Chapter 4: Yeah, We Need Another Member

“Where is that girl?” Octavia groaned, slouching over her drum set as she, Clarke, and Anya sat waiting in the garage for Raven to show up.

“I don’t know, but if she doesn’t get her ass in here soon –” Anya began, just as the door flew open and the girl in question burst through.

“Yo, check it out!” Raven called, forgoing any greetings and waving a piece of paper in their direction. “Isn’t this totally awesome?”

“Hello to you, too,” said Clarke as she climbed to her feet, brushing off her jeans.

Anya leaned back against the wall she had startled up from when Raven rushed in, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, a truly remarkable piece of blue paper.”

“Maybe if you stopped waving it around we could actually see what was on it,” Clarke said as she walked up and took the sheet from Raven’s hands. Turning to the other two girls, she read aloud, “Battle of the Bands! Mountain Men Records’ annual play-off is back! Think your band has what it takes? Grand prize winner takes home $1000!”

She handed the flyer back to Raven as Octavia let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s a lot of cash.”

Bouncing on her toes, Raven spread her arms and raised her eyebrows. “So?”

Octavia sat up straight on her stool. “Wait, you mean you want _us_ to join?” She exchanged baffled glances with Anya and Clarke.

“I don’t know…” Clarke hedged.

“C’mon guys, a thousand bucks!” Raven shook the flyer at them again. “That’s too juicy a chance to pass up!”

“But how would we even stand a chance? You remember the unmitigated disaster of our first and last gig?” Clarke pointed out.

She recalled the uncomfortable wait in the back alley as they waited for Uncle Laus to retrieve their equipment, Octavia pacing like a caged animal. At least he still paid them for the whole night, considering they had only gotten through one and a half songs.

“No, no, I think Raven’s right,” said Anya thoughtfully. Clarke looked at her in surprise. “Clarke, your singing voice is good. I think it could stand up to the competition.”

Clarke beamed. That was the first genuine compliment Anya had given her.

“But your guitar skills are lacking.” Noticing Clarke’s smile fall into a scowl, she continued, “Don’t get pissy. You haven’t been playing for very long. Of course you’re not as good as you could be.” A glint came into her eyes. “But I know someone who has been playing since she was a toddler. She’s just what we need.”

 

The next day they gathered once more in Anya’s shed, waiting for her to bring her friend in for her tryout.

“Do you know who she’s bringing?” Raven asked Octavia, leaning forward on Octavia’s stool to look down at the girl who was lying with her head between Raven’s feet.

Octavia shrugged. “I don’t really know many of Anya’s friends. I mostly just hang out with her during jam sessions or when we both go to one of Lincoln’s matches.”

“I bet she’s totally jacked and has tattoos all on her face.”

Octavia hummed thoughtfully. “That’d be pretty awesome, actually. Keep pervy scumbags away.” Then she reached up and thunked Raven on the forehead. “But wow, stereotypes. Just because Anya’s uncle owns a biker bar doesn’t mean she spends all her time with people like that.”

“Ow, Jesus, sor-ry,” Raven said belligerently, rubbing at her forehead.

“You’re forgiven,” Octavia said smugly.

The door to the shed opened, and the girls scrambled to their feet. Anya stood in the doorway for a moment, a smirk on her lips, before stepping over the threshold and gesturing behind her.

“Everyone, this is my friend Lexa. She’s going to save our asses.”

Lexa narrowed her eyes at Anya before following her into the shed. She gave the other girls a nod. “Hello.”

_She’s gorgeous_ , Clarke couldn’t stop herself from thinking.

Her light brown hair was pulled back in a complicated crisscross of braids, accentuating her high forehead and bright green eyes. She was wearing a faded dark gray boyfriend tank top with a worn print of pine trees on the front. Her dark jeans were ripped at the knees, and rolled slightly above her black high tops. Although she didn’t have any on her face, she did have one tattoo on her right arm – four curved pieces that wrapped around her arm and met in the middle, swirling patterns filling them.

It was her eyes that really captured Clarke. Even though Lexa was only wearing light makeup, her eyes stood out, their striking green color piercing through the dim light of the small shed.

Realizing she was staring, Clarke stepped forward, offering Lexa her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Clarke.” Lexa took her hand and gave it a brief but firm shake. Clarke could feel the heat of her palm even through the thin leather of the fingerless gloves she wore. Indicating the two girls behind her, she continued, “And this is Octavia and Raven.”

Octavia gave a small wave, and Raven nodded.

“Hello,” Lexa repeated. She glanced at Anya, who gave her a half smile, then looked back to Clarke. “Should I start?”

“Oh, yeah yeah, sure thing, whenever you’re ready,” Clarke said, waving her hands around awkwardly. Inwardly cursing her inability to act like a normal human around pretty girls, she turned and sat down on her amp, ignoring the muffled snickers coming from behind her.

Lexa leaned back out of the door and snagged a guitar case, which she laid on the floor and unclipped to reveal a cherry red Gibson flying V guitar. After quickly unspooling her cable and plugging it into an amp, she slung the strap over her shoulder and gave the strings a few strums to tune them. As she did, Clarke noticed a spray of maroon paint across the body of the guitar, making it look like blood splatter.

Lexa shuffled her feet a little, then, with one last glance at Anya and a subtle deep breath, started playing.

She was good. As Lexa’s fingers slid over the frets, Clarke found herself entranced. The song was heavy and loud, and Lexa’s hands flew over the strings as she played. Clarke swallowed heavily as her slender fingers curled around the neck of the guitar, touching down then quickly springing to new positions as she flew through the notes.

Just when Clarke thought she couldn’t be more impressed, Lexa neared the end of the song, and suddenly she was shredding. Lexa drew wails and shrieks out of the guitar, pumping the whammy bar and sliding her fingers up and down the fretboard, toeing the line between melody and discord.

Abruptly Lexa finished playing, letting the last note hang in the air, and eyed the three other girls nervously. There was a moment of silence, then Raven let out a whoop.

“Holy shit!” she laughed in excitement and disbelief, as Octavia got up from her stool to clap enthusiastically, cheering along. Belatedly realizing her jaw was lying somewhere on the floor, Clarke snapped her mouth shut and echoed Octavia’s applause.

“What the fuck was that?” Raven asked, stepping forward and putting her hands on her hips admiringly.

“The song is called ‘Raining Blood,’ by Slayer,” Lexa told her. Clarke could swear there was a slight pink tinge to her cheeks, but when she looked at the floor and back up it was gone.

“That was amazing,” Clarke said, standing as well. “I’m seriously in awe. Where did you learn to play like that?”

“I’ve been playing since I was very young,” Lexa answered, smiling over at Anya. “Anya is the one who got me into the guitar, actually.”

“And now I finally get to reap the rewards of my very charitable act,” drawled Anya.

Lexa rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.” Looking back at Clarke, the apprehension entered her eyes again. “So, what do you think?”

Fully intending to make Lexa a part of the band _right then_ , Clarke started to answer, “I think –”

“Hold up,” Octavia interrupted. Clarke turned to her with raised eyebrows. “Don’t we want to see how she plays with the whole band?”

Octavia’s expression was one of perfect innocence, but Clarke could see a spark of mischief in her eyes, so it was with hesitation that she answered, “Yeah, okay.”

“Awesome.” Octavia turned to Lexa with a small smirk. “Do you know ‘Girls/Girls/Boys’ by Panic! at the Disco?”

Clarke just managed to stop herself from making a noise of protest, and Octavia’s smirk became a full shit-eating grin, which Clarke returned with a glare.

“Yes, I know how to play that,” Lexa said, oblivious to the non-verbal battle.

Octavia clapped her hands together. “Great! Clarke’s been dying to play this properly, haven’t you?”

Clarke just glared harder in answer.

Octavia’s grin reached rictus-like proportions. “Everyone else good?”

Receiving nods from Anya and Raven, Raven’s a little more knowing and just as amused, she returned to her stool behind her drum set.

Clarke moved to the front of the shed, carefully not looking at Lexa. Damn Octavia. “Girls/Girls/Boys” just screamed “bi anthem.” There was no way Lexa wouldn’t get the message.

Octavia was right though; Clarke really had been dying to sing this song properly. So, as they started playing, she sighed and decided to just go with it. She started off singing low, but as she reached the chorus she couldn’t hold back, throwing her head back and belting it out. “Girls love girls and boys! And love is not a choice.”

Every so often as she sang she glanced over at Lexa, and each time their eyes met for a split second before Lexa quickly looked away.

By the end of the song, Clarke’s heart was beating hard, but she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. “That sounded great!” she exclaimed. “Are you satisfied?” she asked Octavia.

“Oh yeah, totally,” Octavia replied with another mischievous grin.

Giving her her best “I’ll deal with you later” eyes, Clarke turned to Lexa. “Well, now that we’re all in agreement…” She stuck out her hand. “Welcome to Gonakru!”

Lexa took Clarke hand with a wide smile, shaking it happily. “Thank you very much. I really look forward to playing with you.”

“Same here.” Clarke smiled back at her. “Well, our next practice is in a couple days, so I guess we’ll be seeing you then?”

“Yes, I’ll see you then.” There was a moment of awkward silence as they realized they were still holding hands and let them drop.

“I’ll walk you out,” Anya told Lexa, heading towards the door. “You can leave your shit here, these losers do.”

Lexa nodded and set her guitar down, following Anya to the door.

“See you!” Clarke called, then winced internally at how desperate she sounded.

Lexa turned around in the doorway, giving her a small smile. “Goodbye,” she said, then pulled the door closed behind her.

As soon as it was closed, Raven let out a loud laugh. “Ohhhh, Clarke’s got it bad!”

“Shut up,” Clarke scowled. Rounding on Octavia, she demanded, “O, what the hell was that, suggesting ‘Girls/Girls/Boys’? Are you trying to out me?”

“Clarke, your Skype handle is ‘average bi and ready to try.’” Raven pointed out. “I think the entire world knows.”

“Besides, you couldn’t see it from where you where from, but she had a rainbow sticker on the back of the neck of her guitar. I think you have a chance with her.” Octavia said.

“She could just be showing her support,” Clarke mumbled, but couldn’t keep her hope from rising.

Raven chuckled. “Nah, I saw the way you two were looking at each other. She digs you back.”

“Really?” Clarke asked, then shook her head. “Whatever, we just met her. I’m not gonna jump into a relationship without getting to know her.”

“It’s not like there’s not a precedent,” Raven said.

Clarke leveled her with an icy glare. “Low blow.”

Raven winced, looking ashamed. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” She looked at the ground, then glanced back up at Clarke through her lashes. “You want to go to the dining hall and get some of those cookies you love?”

Clarke thought for a moment, letting the anger and hurt Raven’s comment had caused seep out of her. “Yeah, all right.”

The three girls scrambled out of the shed, and Clarke hooked her arms through Octavia and Raven’s, letting their chatter of competing bands and thousand-dollar prizes wash away any lingering morbid thoughts.


End file.
